Excuses
by tigersbride
Summary: Peter considers the possibilities of his situation. Spoilers for S03E04.
1. Peter

**Haven't written anything in a while, but I was quite spurred on by watching the scene where Peter starts talking about excuses and how Patricia didn't know she was living with a shapeshifter, and this is what came out of it. **

**If he hasn't worked it out yet, it's certainly going to start coming together in his mind if not Walter's, I bet ya ;)**

**Hope you enjoy it anyway. R&R, and oh, I don't own anything, yet... **

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She's mine, she's mine, she's mine.

Two words I repeated over and over in my head, and for once it wasn't because I was remembering the first time her lips tentatively touched my own. No, today it was just another one of the things I'd never noticed before. That's right. I'd never noticed them before. They'd always been there. I was being crazy, wasn't I? The new interest in music and dancing, the confidence, the patience, her being so much less troubled, all of it was just my imagination getting over the changed that our new intimacy was creating, wasn't it?

But Walter, earlier, he'd acted so odd around her. The way he seemed to notice such a difference in her hair, such an unusual thing to be different. 'Diamonds', he'd said. This hadn't unsettled me. I'd always loved the way the blonde caught the light, it was one of the reasons I hadn't liked the other Olivia's colour, instead, it was his distracted state that worried me. The way I could tell his eyes were shifting as his mind worked, figuring out things I'm not sure I want to know, and how he stared after her, whether in worry or wonder.

Stop.

She's mine, she's mine, she's mine.

I thought over my words from yesterday, 'maybe she did notice, she just made excuses for herself not to have to deal with it'. But I wasn't making excuses; I was accepting the change by talking to her about it, wasn't I? That word, change, that's all it was

'All the little differences' I'd described, 'the change is good, but, it's different'. Change again. God it feels like an excuse. Please God don't let it be an excuse!

It's not an excuse.

I sat up then and pulled on my boxers, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water, anything to distract my racing mind. Why was I so ill at ease? I leant against the counter, running my hands through my hair and sighing.

"What's up?" A soft, inquisitive, but slightly wrong voice queried, making me jump slightly.

I looked up with tired eyes, (why I hadn't been sleeping properly was not certain to me, except for dreams that disturbed my every night) and met a thin figure wrapped tightly in a robe. The question lingered silently in the air, unwelcome. What was wrong? I didn't know. Was I wrong? Was she wrong? I kept my head down, I couldn't bring myself to look into her eyes. Perhaps I didn't feel the same? But how could I not? The way my heart beat when we kissed, the way she pulled me close, the way my body responded to hers. I had to admit I'd been a little let down that she hadn't waited for a more special moment; it was just any other day. We'd spoken about sex over dinner, and I'd talked about the tension, how you can tell people haven't taken the next step. I wasn't implying I felt we were at that stage. I wanted her, of course I did, (any sane man would have) but I had wanted something a bit more memorable. I wasn't even sure I loved her yet. I had thought I did before, but since we'd come back everything had all been so different.

"Nothing" I said quietly, offering up a half-hearted smile, which I knew she'd see right through. I stood, preparing an answer to her continued questioning. I half decided to admit my fears, tell her that I was scared because of how different things were, and another part of me wanted to scream how strange it felt being with her. My mind settled on a medium, tell her I'm thinking too much into things, that I'm just wondering if we're moving too fast, and I'm worried about how much crossing over has affected us. I looked up to meet her eyes, ready now for the query, but she was looking away. Without speaking, she headed to the kettle and filled it at the sink, finally turning back to me and offering, "coffee?"

My stomach dropped and heart raced. What the hell was happening? Had she been so changed that she didn't even know me anymore? I had to get out of there.

"No thanks, sweetheart" I mumbled, professionally adopting a calm tone. "Walter will be wondering where I am, I shouldn't even have stayed, really."

"Ok" she smiled. I went back into the bedroom, panic overtaking me. Had we lost that connection? Was she simply ignoring it to be kind? Or had she changed beyond recognition?

I wouldn't even consider the other option. I took my things, said a hasty goodbye, and climbed into my car once outside, pulling away to be alone with my thoughts.

Perhaps I ought to talk to Walter.

So many little things that were different, so much that seemed to amaze her in ways which hadn't before, so much that I had previously not seen in her. I couldn't ignore it, I had to face my fears and think for a second what it would mean had I made a mistake.

Images of my dreams flooded back to me, Olivia tied up and bound, Olivia crying helplessly, being beaten, wounded, tortured. A different Olivia, laughing with me, dancing with me, kissing me... but without the shyness, grace, and purity I was used to.

Please tell me it doesn't make sense. I took a deep breath and considered the possibilities rationally.

Q. Why would she be patient with Walter?

A. She respected him more since he managed to help her get me back? _But Walternate is a very powerful, important man who likely is very intimidating..._

Q. Why had she suddenly gone off of certain foods?

A. They reminded her of being over there? _She never liked them in the first place._

Q. Why is she so confident?

A. It's an act to make me think she's doing fine? _She hasn't ever not been..._

The voice inside me that was backing up my fears troubled me. I had perfectly good answers to each side of the argument, and yet my gut feeling was scaring me, despite how much I begged my mind to accept the first answers, that she really was mine. But was I like Patricia? Was I making up excuses so as not to have to deal with the truth? .

Q. Why am I not in love with Olivia Dunham?

A. I don't belong here? _No, she doesn't belong here. _


	2. Walter

**I really don't know how happy I am with this chapter, I've never written anything from Walter's POV before and it was way more challenging than I thought, but I tried to make him as in character as I could. I know at least where I'm going with this story, and the next chapter will probably be Astrid's POV, so I'll see how that works for me, but rest assured they'll all get their say. **

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"Walter" he repeats again. "Please, Walter"

The stegosaurus has two brains. Clever Belly, clever, clever Belly. What genius he had. Oh, someone's sighing? Why is Peter sighing? Oh no. A rush of fear and panic cascades through me but I hold myself tall. Think of the stegosaurus. My mind calms. Perhaps LSD would help me solve the problem. My stomach is gargling, oh yes, I'm hungry, I never ate my pudding yesterday. Blueberry tart, oh how I want some now.

"Peter?" My son looks up at me with desperate eyes. I ignore the pain that crumples my heart; I can't crumple his too. He nods, praying to hear wise words. I swallow. "Can I have some tart?"

That's enough then, he rises with his hands on his head, facing away from me. I hear his falter before I see it, see him quickly brush away a worried tear as it starts to skate down his cheek. He's not worried about me, is he? Can I ignore it? I certainly want to ignore it, I don't want to confront my other worries...

"Son?" I ask tentatively, and flinch slightly as I say the word that still separates us. He's straightened up again; evidently his barriers have been rebuilt within the seconds of awkward silence. I watch as he turns to me, eyes begging for answers. I could just tell him what I think, but if I'm wrong? I wasn't wrong about the choice of pudding though... I wonder if perhaps Astrix will bring me some if I ask politely?

"Walter" he's on his knees again now. "Walter, please, I have to know, what do you think?"

With each word my imagination turns horribly, and I know that I should speak.

"I don't know, Peter" I admit. I can't tell him if I don't know.

"Please Walter, tell me we haven't been stupid, tell me we've brought the right girl home..."

The phone rings then and we both jump, the desperation that hung in the air destroyed in the instant. Our eye contact holds for a while, but we break it when Peter goes to pick up the receiver, muttering a hello as he looks back at me again. I can't cope with his staring, with what it's making me feel, with what it's making me think about. .. If I was a stegosaurus, I would be able to think about more than one thing at once... The power that it could give me... Perhaps Belly was hoping that these Shapeshifters would be a more powerful race, rather than warriors.

"Yeah, sure Astrid, see you in a little while." Peter's voice has become slightly louder and I notice that their conversation is finishing, not that I'd noticed it start.

"Oh, Peter!" I interrupt, he nods once to show he's listening. "Can you ask Aspirin to bring me some tart?"

"He's talking about pudding again... I think he wanted blueberry... You don't have to... Thanks, Astrid" He half smiles and I beam back, hoping I've taken his mind off of things. Thinking of things to remember, I wonder if Nina has approved my request to move Gene to Massive Dynamic... I really must resume my work on making that chocolate milk; it would be delightful not having to send my friends to the store every time I wanted some. Perhaps strawberry too, would be plausible.

"Walter?" Oh, Peter's off the phone now. "Astrid is coming, and we're going to talk about this"

Oh no, that was not what I wanted to hear! But at least she's bringing me the pudding, perhaps I made a mistake with blueberry though, surely lemon would fit my mood better...


End file.
